Chapter 03

  Street Life

  “How’s life in the city treating you?”

  “It’s fun. Way more than I expected, I can say that even.”

  “You mean the night markets or the men?”

  I carefully place a bag of plump, yellow mangoes into a small pouch around my shoulder, ignoring the conversation of the two older women on my right. The fruit vendor rummages through his inventory, digging out a few copper coins before handing them to me. I thank him and turn around, quietly counting the change.

  There's a copper missing.

  “Oh, you are such a goof!” laughs one of the women, slighter shorter than the other. She playfully shoves her friend, a tall woman with emerald earrings.

  I turn around and face the fruit vendor with an apologetic smile. He clicks his tongue, already predicting my next words.

  “I’m very sorry for this, but I believe I’m short of a copper.” I present the five copper coins in my palm as evidence.

  The man grunts, “one moment,” and shoves his hand back into his inventory.

  “All I’m saying is,” the tall woman goes on, “You, my sweet, are quite the looker—especially for your age, which is, you know, the only thing that's not so hot—and the pool here is plentiful~" The short woman gasps, horrified but slightly amused at the same time.

  “I have a kid!” she cries out, embarrassed by her brazen friend. Although, not too flustered, given her wide smile and toothy grin.

  "And no man!" the tall friend rebuts, a hand on her hip. She spots a bracelet she likes and hands it to another stall owner, who happily wraps it up.

  “Oh. My. Goodness.” Aca whines impatiently. I can’t see him, but I can picture two hands pressing against his ears. “When will they stop talking?! My head's gonna explode, I just know it."

  “Sht!” I cough. The talking between the two ladies is tolerable, but if Aca joins the mix, I might actually faint.

  To my side, the women continue chattering.

  “Yeah, you got a kid, but you know what?" The tall woman smirks. "He’s off to the Academy—the Fluor Academy for Elementalists, and he'll be stuck there for at least 4 years. You’re free, girl!” exclaims the tall woman, fully expecting her excitement to be reciprocated back. Much to her disappointment, her comment backfires and seems to sour the her friend’s mood instead. Perhaps her comments were a little too blunt for her shorter friend’s liking.

  “The only reason why I moved here is for my son," the short woman grumbles, "I sent him off for a better future, not so I could run after some man while he's gone,” she waves her hand in the air, swatting away the imaginary lover crafted by her friend.

  "Well, I'm sorry for trying to make the best of a situation. Why do you gotta be so down all the time, can't you try living it up for once?" The tall woman picks up a shiny necklace, "I'll have this, too."

  The short woman sighs, "I have responsibilities. I can't afford to live on the edge everyday."

  "And what are you trying to say? Are you saying that I don't have responsibilities? That's too far, my girl. At least I make my own choices in life."

  "Excuse me?" The short woman gasps. "Sending my son to the Academy was the start of a whole bucket of choices I've had to make this past week. You wanna tell me that I'm the one not making my own decisions, not the one obeying her husband's every command just so she can splurge on luxury goods every day with his money."

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “So drama…” Aca says, pretending to be indifferent but clearly invested in the conversation.

  “You say that, but…” the tall woman mumbles, not denying her friend, “Not sure I’d call it a choice when the City Council forced your son into the Academy after discovering his abilities.”

  “You—!”

  The fruit vendor finally takes out the copper and I snatch it out of his hand, desperate to get myself far away from the escalating awkwardness beside me.

  “You, you can’t just—” the short woman shifts from angry to downcast in a split second, water filling her eyes.

  “Oh, she’s crying,” Aca pops in again, with a more curious tone rather than a sympathetic one. That's pretty questionable, given his 'angel' status. Sometimes, I wonder whether Aca is truly a being sent to save the world or he just decided he was bored and came down here to watch the folly of everyday folk.

  The tall woman, finally conscious of her friend’s discomfort, detaches her hands from her hips and lifts them in the air in defeat. “Oh, curse these loose lips!” she says, smacking her mouth.

  “Yes, about time you zip it,” Aca says.

  Please, Aca, just be quiet.

  Of course, the angel of loose lips does not quit and instead gawks, “Do old women love talking this much?”

  “Shut it.” I hiss.

  I hiss?

  “... Excuse me?” The tall lady next to me turns around and eyes me, her emerald earrings are blinding.

  Oh, I said that aloud…

  Well, shit.

  “Uhh... this—BRAIN! Stupid, indecisive, good-for-nothing brain! Will you SHUT IT and just make a decision already! Is it peaches or apples?” I shout to the air, flailing my arms with all the dramatic prowess I can muster.

  “Why not buy both?” The fruit vendor looks at me kindly, the ends of his lips curved up innocently. Not cunning at all.

  “Oh yup… that’s a good… idea…” I laugh bitterly as he quickly wraps up another bag of goods and hands them over to me. The change I just managed to retrieve goes back to its original owner.

  “Pfft!”

  Seriously shut it, Aca! This is your fault! If only I could yell at you right now.

  Thankfully, the two ladies seem to accept my desperate attempt at a skit and revert back to their conversation, walking away naturally. I cry inside as I hand the fruit vendor another of my silver coin, feeling expertly scammed.

  “Thank heavens! Those two were getting on my nerves,” The fruit vendor cackles, uncharacteristic from his previously stoic attitude.

  "See! I wasn't the only one," Aca shouts triumphantly.

  “You must be a genius, effortlessly driving them away like that!” applauds the fruit vendor.

  I didn’t mean to, though.

  “Anyway, why was that woman so concerned about her son going to the Academy?” wonders the fruit vendor.

  “Who’s the chatterbox now?” Aca snickers, clearly enjoying the show. His evil laugh makes me cringe. Can you get any more obvious? Seems more like an demonic ghost-like being just here to have fun and mess with humans. That human being me, of course.

  The vendor continues, “Getting into Fluor is like receiving a free, golden ticket! It’s all your financial burdens gone POOF!”

  “Mmhmm,” I nod politely.

  “Just being a mage grants you VIP status, regardless of whether you've got a noble background or you don't—gah! If only I had a family member like that, then I wouldn't be slaving myself to death everyday.” he grumbles, handing me my change in copper.

  “That would be nice," I organize the goods and secure my money bag in my pouch. "I guess we make do with what we have."

  The vendor clicks his tongue in disapproval, "tsk tsk, you're too naive, young lady, When you're just a commoner with no magic running through your blood, this world will eat you up and spit out your bones. We're all just surviving off the scraps left behind by the lotta them that's born gifted."

  "Perhaps," I wave the vendor goodbye and head back to the Rutherford mansion.

  As I cruise down the gravel road surrounded by stalls of various merchandise, I cannot help but drown in the rich sensations.

  Here in the busy streets, there's an overwhelming fragrance of spices and fresh crops that cannot be found anywhere else. The scent of cinnamon and melted sugar fill my senses.

  The chaotic mixture of noises play in my ear like a symphony. Children laugh and run about, catching their friends and digging their small, wooden sandals into stone road, clicking and clacking away. Women bustle around, baskets filled to the brim securely tucked to their hip. From behind stalls, men and women introduce their stock, beckoning guests in with charm and eloquence.

  The streets explode in color, to the vibrant pink and yellow fabric rolled out on mats, to the red and purple variants of grain, to the dark edges of women's dresses stained with a muddy brown.

  It is not a place of opportunity, per se, but there's something comforting about being in the presence of so much life. It makes you ponder in a daze and dream.

  I am not so optimistic that I'd think that I could be anything more than a maid my entire life, but am I unsatisfied with that? It could always be worse—so, why not? With moments such as these where I get to enjoy the simple things like walking through a familiar street, I feel as though all my worries could fly away in an instant. Perhaps, this life isn't so terrible.

  Perhaps, I can get through it.